


Rumor Mill

by year_of_the_pineapple



Category: South Park
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, M/M, Parody, Slash, but not really, romance but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/year_of_the_pineapple/pseuds/year_of_the_pineapple
Summary: In which Stan and Kyle are undeniably gay, except that both of them are straight; Kenny takes fiscal advantage of the situation; and Cartman is off having hate sex with Wendy behind the music classrooms. Or y'know, high school, basically.
Relationships: Clyde Donovan/Bebe Stevens, Eric Cartman/Wendy Testaburger, Kyle Broflovski/Bebe Stevens, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	Rumor Mill

**This is a parody/humor Style fic.**

* * *

The first Stan heard about it was on his way to Geometry class on a Thursday afternoon.

Well, he was actually on his way to ditch Geometry class, technically. He and Kenny had it all planned out – they'd pretend like Kenny had died, and then Stan would act like he'd been so grieving and upset that he had totally forgotten to go to class.

And then they'd spend the spare hour hanging out and smoking behind the music rooms.

It was a pretty ideal scenario, in Stan's head, anyway.

It hadn't quite gone to plan. You see, Stan hadn't quite counted on the fact that Kenny would _actually_ die, and that he would be stuck pretending to grieve all on his own for a whole hour.

He happens across Kenny's body purely by accident – his corpse speared onto one of the wrought iron gates that happened to be bent the wrong way. He's inexplicably nude.

Stan apprehends the dead body with a heavy sigh.

"Fucksake," he says to himself, and then pulls his phone out. He sends a cursory text to Kyle.

**welp, so kenny died again… would it be wrong to use this to take the rest of the week off?**

He looks around the area, checking to make sure that there aren't any teachers in the area. When he decides that the coast is officially clear, he lifts up his phone and takes a quick picture of Kenny's body.

Then he takes off – making a beeline for the music rooms.

His phone buzzes in his pocket on the way, so he slides it out to take a look. It's Kyle, obviously.

**-Yeah dude, you're going to hell. Also why is he naked?!**

Stan snorts and types out a reply.

**-well, whatever. ken says theres an arby's there so I'm chill.**

He pauses, taking a second to take stock of the situation – and then types out a second message.

**- & who knows man, its kenny**

Kyle comes back straight away.

**-True & true. See you at lunch**

Stan manages to mope around for a further five minutes, debating whether or not going for a smoke without Kenny would be morally wrong. He's just about rounding the corner behind the music block when he spies a couple making out in one of the cubbyholes.

"Hey!" he exclaims, a little annoyed. The couple breaks apart in a matter of milliseconds, startled by the intruder. His lips turn down in disgust when he realises who the culprits are. "Urgh, Wendy?"

When the couple realise that it's just Stan, and not some teacher on the warpath, they grumble a little irritably and then sidle back together. "What do you want, Stan?" Cartman snarks, audibly annoyed at the interruption.

"Firstly, what in the actual fuck are you guys doing? And secondly – and more importantly - this is the _smoking_ hole, not the kissing hole. Get out of here."

Cartman scowls harder and Wendy places a hand on his shoulder, speaking up. "Eric and I… had some issues to work out," she explains with a vague hand gesture.

"You guys were put together on a group project again?" Stan wheedles. "Man, haven't they learned that that is a terrible idea…? You guys always end up arguing all week, then making out, and then getting a B+."

"Pretty solid week if you ask me," Cartman chortles, earning him a righteous whack from Wendy. "Ay!"

"Are you waiting for Kyle?" Wendy asks innocently, fiddling with a strand of her hair as Cartman rubs his shoulder in pain.

Stan blinks. "No. Why would I be waiting for Kyle? He's in class right now…"

Wendy and Cartman share a look. "Well… this is where couples come to make out, Stan. I just figured you came here to have some alone time with Kyle. And hey, I get it. With his over-emotional broad of a mother always sticking her neck in…"

Stan's head spins. "Wait, what the fuck?" his voice makes the leap from inarticulation to annoyance rather quickly. " _Why_? _What_? _When_ …?"

"You and Kyle," Wendy says slowly, as if Stan might be a bit stupid. "It's fine, Stan. It's 2020. Nobody really cares if you're gay these days. You can be as gay as you want."

Cartman nods. "Yeah, you can be Elton John having gay sex with Ryan Seacrest in a unicorn patch." Cartman adds helpfully. "So long as you aren't a fucking fag Harley rider."

Stan wheezes, clutching his head dramatically and letting out a low moan.

Wendy frowns at him cluelessly. "Um. Did I say something wrong?"

It takes him a few seconds to get his bearings in light of this new information – namely, that people though Kyle and him were a couple. An overwhelming urge to punch Cartman in the face comes over him. "Kyle and I are _not_ a couple," he begins, red in the face and spitting. "We aren't even couple- _adjacent_. We are so _far_ from a couple that… that…"

"That you lust after each other in private?" Cartman suggests.

"No!" Stan exclaims. "No, no, no, no…" he groans repetitively, this whole conversation starting to give him a headache. "Fuck, I…" he trails off, a new fear suddenly gripping him. "Wait. Does the whole school think that we're a couple?!"

Wendy makes a grimace. "Pretty much, yeah."

"What?!" he yelps. "That's _not_ okay!"

"Well, I heard it from Annie. Who heard it from Francis, who heard it from Marjorie, who heard it from Kevin who heard it from… look, I don't know, maybe it was Bebe?" Wendy scratches her head pensively.

Stan's eyebrows knit together in concern. "Firstly, Kyle is dating Bebe." He points out. "..so I would seriously hope that she doesn't think we're fucking. And secondly… isn't Marjorie just Butters dressed up like a chick?" he says, getting side-tracked. "Since when does freaking _Butters_ spread the gossip around here?!"

"It's 2020, Stan," Cartman tuts. "Live and let live."

"Jesus," Stan finds himself saying. "Jesus. I need to sort this out. I need to go find Kyle and let him know," he says, pacing up and down.

"That's fine, Stan," Wendy says patiently. "But can you go? I don't think you really want to stick around to see how this shitshow ends," she jerks a thumb towards Cartman, who bares his teeth in a smile.

Stan stares at them for a second, and then realises that she's probably right. "Ew, you guys. Gross," he informs them, turning on his heel and beginning to stomp in the opposite direction.

Wendy calls after him. "Hope you guys make up!" she says.

"Yeah and if you do, we'll be done in here in about ten minutes," Cartman adds. "We'll keep it warm for you lovebirds."

Stan doesn't dignify that thought by looking back, but he does scowl a little harder. He'd show them.

* * *

Kyle, conversely, is having a rather pleasant Biology class. It's going a little slowly – mostly because trying to get Jimmy to pronounce words like ' _Epicotyl'_ is like to trying to thread a daisy chain with a lawn strimmer. Sometimes, Kyle wonders if it wouldn't just be kinder to interject, but Jimmy insists on having his independence.

It's a good thing, but it does make class a bore.

Despite this, Kyle's actually managing to learn a lot. He's doing the advanced reading; four pages ahead in the textbook. He's even in the process of making notes for next week's class, when his phone flashes up on his desk. It's Stan, and apparently, he's up in arms about something or rather.

**dude. We gotta talk… something weird is happening**

He doesn't think too much of it, honestly. Stan could be a drama queen at the best of times, and Kyle really needs an 'A' this semester in Biology, so he ignores the text.

**u there?**

**Kyle I'm serious bro**

**…**

**HEY**

Kyle taps his pencil on the side of his desk impatiently, sighs, and then types out a response.

**In bio, can't talk. Can it wait until lunch?**

The response comes back almost immediately.

**No. Dumpsters. Come by yourself**

Kyle can't help but shudder at the sinister undertones of that message. Despite his gut feelings – and his math quiz next period - he figures that Stan probably wouldn't be this pushy if it wasn't at least a little bit important.

His biology teacher Mr Warren is starting to look at him a little suspiciously, so he keeps it brief.

**K.**

Short and sweet.

* * *

The first thing he notices when he opens the door of the common room is that Stan is pacing. Marching up and down the common room with a tense frame and a face like thunder.

"Ahem," Kyle says the word, rather than actually coughing. Stan barely looks up, too far deep in his own head. "You want to tell me what the hell is going on?" he asks, and then pauses, observing his friend's demeanour. "And why you're so pissed off?"

"People _think_! We're a _couple_!" Stan explodes, throwing his arms up in the air with vigor. "People think I'm gay. With you, Kyle!" the words come out in a strangled yelp; just barely audible.

Kyle's ears hurt as he blinks in surprise, absorbing the information. "And…" he scratches his head. " _How_ exactly did you figure that one out?"

"Wendy and Cartman told me!" Stan replies in a whine, pointing accusingly to an arbitrary spot out the window. "They were making out behind the music block, and they saw me, and they thought I was waiting for you. And I was all 'why would I be doing that' and they were all, 'because this is make-out point and you're gay for Kyle' and I was all 'FUCK NO' and here we are."

Kyle's eyes widen, drinking this in. He takes a second to process. "Slow down, dude," he chews his lip thoughtfully. First of all, Wendy and _Cartman_? Gross, dude. And secondly… I mean, what did you think people went back there for? It's literally primo make-out real estate."

"Since _when_!" Stan exclaims, his voice going up at the end.

Kyle shrugs. "Since forever. Look, dude, it's Wendy and freaking Cartman. Who the fuck knows what those guys are smoking? Other than each other tonsils, I guess…" he shakes his head. "I seriously doubt that the entire school thinks we're a couple. Most of the guys in our year went to pre-k with us, man. I think they would know us a little better than that."

Stan breathes fast, staring hard at Kyle. "You think?"

Kyle nods, placing a calming hand on Stan's back. "I'm positive. Chill out. Pop a couple Ativan," he leans back against the wall and observes Stan. "Untwist your knickers."

Stan nods, running a hand through his hair. Kyle's right. He's freaking out over nothing – just because Wendy and Cartman said something, didn't mean that the entire school was talking about it.

He feels himself calming down, so he pops a squat on a nearby chair. "Oh man. There was me flipping out all through my free period over this…" he lets his head fall into his hand. "Thanks."

"Um, you actually had Geometry…" Kyle starts to point out, but Stan interjects.

"Can I just ask - since when are _you_ the rational one of the two of us?" Stan wonders drily. "I thought I was the one who had to talk you down from a ledge every time Cartman pissed you off."

Kyle chuckles. "We're operating a turn-based system. You have your weird over-emotional freak-outs over nothing, and I have my occasional Cartman-induced temper-tantrums. The universe is at equilibrium."

Stan blows air from his cheeks and glances over at his friend. "Well, whatever. Thanks, dude."

Kyle smiles wanly. "No problem," he replies, his patience for this conversation officially running out. "Now can I please go study for my damn math quiz?"

* * *

Stan's mind was put at rest.

Until the following week, after soccer practice, anyway. He heads to the showers, his hair sweaty and his clothes dirty from rolling around in the mud for hours. He's genuinely excited for the dull jets of warm water to splash over his aching muscles, but when he gets there, someone else is already inside the cubicle.

"Don't use up the hot water!" he warns hotly, yelling over the curtain.

"Stan?" the voice comes back. It's Kyle, and he turns off the jets. "Hot water is over-glamorising it a bit. It's tepid at best," he comments, pushing open the curtain and stepping out with a towel slung over his hips.

"Yeah, well, I need that shit. I'm seriously filthy right now…"

"Get in there, dude," Kyle shrugs, passing him and walking to his locker where he pulls out a few items of clothing.

Stan's about to, but at that moment – the door bursts open and a few other members of the soccer team – Token, Craig and Clyde - all pile in. There's a little audible chatter, but once they see Stan and Kyle in the changing rooms, they fall silent.

Craig puts his hands up defensively. "Oh, uh. Sorry, guys. We'll… we'll leave to it…"

Stan's eyes widen in fury and he whirls to face Craig. "To _what_?"

"Y'know, whatever you… whatever is it that you guys do," Craig shrugs in his signature deadpan.

Token chimes in, not improving the current red shade of Stan's face. "It's okay, dude. We understand. We're not bigots."

"I'm not okay with it!" Clyde interjects. "I have to use that shower! I don't want to imagine Stan taking it up the ass in it!"

Up until now, Kyle's been watching this conversation with a morbid curiosity. After this comment, however, he's actually worried that Stan might fling himself at Clyde in rage, so he decides to step in.

"Uh, guys? We're not actually gay," he informs them politely.

One, two, three confused faces.

"W-what?" Clyde responds, but then his face breaks into one of understanding. "Right, right. That's cool. You're bi, or pan, or whatever. It's 2020, that's cool."

"We're not any of those things!" Stan stomps his foot on the ground. "We're not a couple, and we're not _fucking_ in the goddamn school showers!" Stan rages.

Craig blows air out his lips and rolls his eyes. "Psh. Sure, dude," he shrugs, turning on his heel to leave. "Whatever you say."

"I.. I…" Stan begins to argue, but Kyle stops him with a hand on the shoulder. Stan lets the boys exit the room; leaving two very confused teenage boys in their wake.

"Dude," Kyle says, shaking his head. "What the hell?"

"I told you! I told you about this last week; people in this school actually we're gay for real. It's like, some sort of sick rumor. I have no idea who is spreading it, I wish I knew so I could jam my boot up their ass. I'd get real far up there."

Kyle chuckles. "You're not making a great case for being straight," he points out, and then something occurs to him. "I thought everyone knew I was dating Bebe…" Kyle says slowly, scratching his curls in bafflement.

"Apparently not! Or they think that she's your beard, or some shit. Who knows," Stan groans, kicking the side of the bench and then yelping out in pain, grabbing his toe. "I hate this town."

"It's hardly the town's fault."

"It is the town's fault! This is South Park syndrome all over. Stupid shit happens here all the time, because God hates all of us and wants us to suffer for being born here."

"You might be laying it on a little thick."

"How can you not _care_ about this?!" Stan asks incredulously. "How can you be so nonchalant?"

Kyle sighs contentedly. "I don't know. I'm feeling pretty zen, these days. I think it's on account of my access to Bebe's sweet rack on a daily basis," he pauses. "Besides. I'm not gay. So who cares if people think I am?"

"That's so disturbing to hear," Stan wrinkles up his nose. "And whatever," he scowls at Kyle. "Can you just get dressed? You've been topless for a while. It's a little gay."

Kyle snorts. "Yeah, whatever. Says you."

"Shut up!"

Kyle wonders about something, a small smile appearing on his face as he throws a shirt over his head. "Hey, speaking of being a little gay. You want to know what's really disturbing?"

"Other than _everything_?"

"Well, Clyde just admitted that he imagines you taking it up the ass," Kyle points out with bemusement.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Uh-huh," Kyle grins.

"Well, you were the one giving it. So that makes you gayer. In Clyde's fantasy."

Kyle screws up his nose, and there's an awkward pause. Kyle hastily shoves his jeans on as Stan fiddles with his bag.

"Let's never talk about this again."

"Agreed."

* * *

Stan takes the next day off school. A 'mental health day', that's what he's calling it, faking flu symptoms to convince his mother.

He spends the day obsessively googling 'signs that someone is gay' and generally living out his teenage angst by listening to depressing music, not showering, and eating an entire packet of Oreos in one sitting. As far as days off go, it's not bad.

Meanwhile, Kyle is sitting in Biology class again when a text comes through from Bebe.

**Need 2 talk 2 u. Meet behind music block in 20**

Kyle stares at the text, a little dumbfounded.

"Mr Broflovski! Pay attention! I hope you're not texting your boyfriend while you're supposed to be learning."

Cue titters from around the class.

"Um, I don't have a boyfriend," Kyle explains slowly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Mr Warren smacks his hand against the desk and sighs loudly, and for a long time. He closes his eyes and then when he opens them again, he speaks through his teeth. " _Sorry_. Your gender non-specific significant other," he grinds out, inexplicably angrily. Those closest to the front can hear him lament under his breath, "Fucking _2020_ …"

"I don't have one of those-" he pauses, and then decides that his protests will probably fall on deaf ears. "O-okay. Sorry, Mr. Warren. Won't happen again."

His biology teacher smiles wanly and then turns back to face the board.

**K**

He types the letter out quick and then stashes his phone surreptitiously in his back pocket.

* * *

She's there waiting for him when he arrives. "Kyle," she says, her voice husky and her eyes puffy like she's spent the last twenty minutes crying in the girls loos. "We really need to talk."

Kyle refrains from pointing out that that was in fact the entire reason for meeting, and nods rather absently. "Are you okay?"

She nods tearfully, biting her bottom lip. "I just… I just can't be with you anymore, like this," she reveals, wiping away an invisible tear along the black of her bottom lash liner. "You're lying to me, and you're lying to yourself!"

Kyle looks nonplussed. "Uh," he starts. "Come again?"

"I can't get between you and Stan anymore!" she cries out, clutching her heart. "It's killing me! I tried for so long to make it work, but you can't change someone. You're in love with Stan, and I just have to accept that. I'm so sorry, Kylie."

Kyle sighs. "I'm not in a relationship with Stan, Bebe," he says in a deadpan.

"I know," she nods.

"Then why-" he starts, but he needn't have bothered, because she cuts him off again in her signature dramatic fashion.

"You guys need to put your pride aside and just admit your feelings for each other," she informs him. "Go to him. Tell him what he means to you. You and Stan are, like, Meant To Be™."

"Fuck a duck," Kyle says simply, resting his forehead in his left hand. "Who the hell is spreading this around? It's fake news."

"Fake news?" she repeats, seemingly confused. "I don't know who told me. I think it was… Wendy, maybe? She said that Stan was waiting here for you the other day, but you never showed. I thought maybe I was getting in between the two of you admitting your feelings for one another…"

"Uh, nope. My heterosexuality does that pretty effectively."

Bebe eyes him up suspiciously. "A-and you're sure about this?"

"Quite positive," he sighs, picking at his fingernails, a little tiredly. "Look, if it's all the same to you… maybe we _should_ break up," he adds, pensively. "We've been seeing each other for seven months now. If you still think I'm gay for my best friend, then clearly I'm doing something wrong."

Bebe frowns. " _You're_ breaking up with _me_?"

There's a silence. "I mean, yeah." Kyle repeats. "If that's okay. It's not like we ever really see each other, except for making out in free periods."

Bebe stares hard at him. "Okay," she mouths. "I get it."

"You do?" Kyle asks doubtfully.

"I do," she nods sagely in response. "You're not ready just yet. I understand; coming out can be really hard for some people. But I really hope that one day, you can come to terms with your feelings for your best friend…" she says quietly.

Kyle blinks twice, stares at her for about ten seconds, and then abandons all hope for humanity. "Sure," he says, sick of this conversation. "Whatever."

There's another moment of silence and both parties eye up the alcove, specifically where some wayward student has scrawled 'Make-out point' in black graffiti lettering.

Kyle jams a thumb towards it. "When in Rome…" he waggles his eyebrows at her.

She nods, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Later that evening, Kyle stomps his way over to the Marsh's house after school and immediately slams his way into Stan's bedroom. He finds Stan inside moping on his bed, eating chocolate swirl ice cream straight out of the tub and watching Oprah. He looks vaguely alarmed to see Kyle burst into his room, but not particularly surprised. Not surprised enough to put down his ice cream spoon, anyway.

"Stan!" Kyle cries, throwing his bag on the floor and making very violent hand gestures as he speaks. Stan has to grip onto his ice cream extra hard to prevent it being knocked out of his hands. "You were freaking _right_. Everyone thinks we're gay. Everyone." He enunciates the final word, the words coming out staccato and angry through his teeth.

"I told you…" Stan whines, swallowing another large spoon of ice cream.

"It's ridiculous! It's insane! It's… it's…" Kyle trails off, suddenly aware of what he's actually watching in front of him. "Is that a _tablespoon_?" he blinks at Stan. "Jesus Christ, Stan, get some self-respect."

"Hey!" Stan waggles his spoon at Kyle, chastising him. "It's okay for you. You have a girlfriend! How am I supposed to ask girls out when they just think that I've got a massive hard-on for my best friend?!"

"No, she broke up with me today. Something something, didn't want to get in the way of you and me..." Kyle explains, wrinkling his nose up. "And uh, ew. Did you have to phrase it that way?"

"Sorry," Stan says sheepishly. "On both counts."

"Right, I've seriously had enough of this," he admits, running a hand through his hair. "Stand up."

It could be that Stan is emotionally vulnerable right now, or maybe Kyle really _is_ the secret dominatrix of the two of them, because he finds himself standing upon command. "Come here," Kyle orders, even clicking his fingers. If Stan didn't know better, he'd say that Kyle is getting off on this. He swallows and takes a step towards him, not sure what to expect.

He _certainly_ doesn't expect what happens next.

Kyle grabs him by the collar of his pyjama shirt, drags the boy towards himself and slams his mouth against Stan's. For a second, Stan's mind freezes up entirely; he doesn't move for at least three full seconds. And then, his brain-cogs kick into motion. He shoves Kyle by the shoulders away from him and recoils in horror.

"Dude! What the _fuck_?!" he splutters.

Kyle falls back a few paces as he's shoved, angrily wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve. "Okay, welp, that answers that. I'm definitely not gay for you."

"Was there really any need for that _question_?!" Stan asks, his pitch getting higher in indignation.

Kyle shrugs. "Well, not really, no. But I figured that at least if we tried it, we can validly categorically reject it." He pauses, eyeing up a still disgusted Stan. "I really hate to ask, but how was that for you?"

"Don't ever ask me that question!" Stan fumes, almost gagging. "It was like licking a frog!"

"You don't have to be _offensive_ about it," Kyle rolls his eyes. "I'm a good kisser. It's fine to admit that."

"You're… fine, I guess…" Stan's face flushes entirely red, annoyed that he's even having to think about whether his best friend may or may not be a good kisser. "Wouldn't go as far as good."

"Just fine? Now you're just lying to yourself," Kyle scoffs. "I'm _fantastic,"_ he claims boldly, jamming a confident thumb towards his own chest and puffing up a little. "Don't be a little bitch. It's 2020, straight dudes can kiss straight dudes."

"Why does everybody keep saying that?!" Stan demands, stomping a foot on the ground. It reverberates through his room and he suddenly remembers his parents are downstairs. His demeanour changes and he sits down on the bed, his head beginning to hurt from all of this confusion.

Kyle blinks, and then laughs. "Okay, who _else_ called you a little bitch today?"

"Oh, quit making it gay," Stan snaps, massaging the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb to prevent the oncoming headache. "This is already way too much, man."

"It was _already_ pretty gay, dude…"

Stan shudders and then his shoulders straighten up. "Look, I say we march into school tomorrow and just tell them straight. I mean, tell them we're straight. Just set the record… straight."

"Got it," Kyle snorts with amusement. "Because that's been going swimmingly so far."

"Fuck it, we'll get a witness! _Kenny_!" Stan suddenly remembers, snapping his fingers and jumping up from his bed. "Kenny can tell everyone that we're straight!"

Kyle's eyes narrow. "Isn't he still technically dead?"

"I'm sure he'll be back tomorrow. He doesn't like to stick around in Hell for too long," Stan explains. "He always complains about the food."

Kyle frowns. "Didn't he once say there was an Arby's there?"

"Yeah, exactly, dude."

There's a silence, and Stan licks his lips curiously. Something tastes funny. "Hey… were you seriously wearing _lipstick_?" he asks, rubbing his top lip with his forefinger and observing the red colour that comes away. "Because that's a little gay."

"Erm, no?" Kyle frowns, and then understanding comes over his features. "Oh, right. It must have been from Bebe. We had a goodbye make-out behind the music block, right after she broke up with me."

Stan sighs morosely. "Did _everyone_ know that was make-out point except me?" he wonders. "Jesus Christ, I'm going to be single _forever_ ," he laments, pouting a little.

Kyle scoots over to him and places a reassuring hand on his friend's back. "Hey, come on, Stan. Maybe if you hang out there long enough, someone will come along and make out with you."

Stan snorts. "Do you really think that would work? Is the power of the make-out point really so potent?"

Kyle laughs, and then his features wrinkle up, remembering something. "Uh… actually, maybe don't. Or… if you do, bring cleaning wipes, or something."

Stan's features turn hard and he glares at his friend. "... dare I ask why?"

"Well, it might have been more like a goodbye hand job."

"Kyle! Gross!" Stan cries, grabbing a pillow from behind him and hitting Kyle in the face with it.

"What?!" Kyle's hands fly up in defence of his actions, protecting him from the barrage of pillow thwacks which Stan aims to his person. "Hand-job point was occupied!"

"Oh God, as if make-out point wasn't bad enough. Where in the flying fuck is _hand-job_ point, for fuck's sake?!"

Kyle titters, shielding himself from Stan's wrath. "Mr Garrison's office."

Stan's angry expression lingers for just a millisecond, and cracks through into a genuine smile of amusement, at long last. He lets out a sigh. "Naturally."

At that point, they're interrupted by a knock on the bedroom door. Neither boy explicitly answers, but Sharon Marsh pushes her merry way in anyway. She smiles, frowning a little as she notices the two boys on Stan's bed. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Stan," she smiles. "Kyle," she clasps her hands together. "I didn't know that you were here. Are you staying for dinner?"

Kyle shakes his head. "No, I think I'll head off soon. My mom's probably worried. Thanks, Mrs Marsh."

"No problem, Kyle!" she says brightly. "And... call me Sharon."

Kyle blinks and then shrugs. "Sure."

Sharon's eyes flit between the two of them a few times, and then she opens the door fully, making a big deal out of resting it against the doorstop. "Remember, Stan, keep your door open if Kyle's here!" she reminds him in a sweet sing-song voice, and then disappears from view.

Kyle shoves the pillow over Stan's mouth before he can voice his frustration; the soft fabric muffling his scream.

* * *

Kenny's quite surprised the next morning when not one, but _two_ furious, determined boys march up to him during first break.

"We need a favor," Kyle announces.

Kenny sighs beneath the myriad layers of his fluffy hood. No 'glad to have you back' or 'we missed you' or even a single 'how was Hell?' he notices. "What can I do you for?" he asks with a rather heavy sigh.

"We need you to inform the entire school, including, _apparently_ , all the teachers AND my mom…" Stan growls. "That me and Kyle are not, in fact, wet for each other."

Kenny decides not to tell Stan that his statement makes no any sense. Partly because he can't be bothered, and partly because he feels that it would only exacerbate the situation, and Kenny's only desire is an easy life. He shrugs casually. "I can do that."

Stan breathes a sigh of relief and Kyle smiles. "Thanks, man."

"For a price."

"Wait, what?!" Kyle yelps. "You're going to _charge_? Jesus, I thought _I_ was supposed to be the stereotypical Jew of our group!"

"That's kind of racist, dude," Kenny informs him. "You can't say that shit. It's 2020."

"Kenny, I literally _am_ Jewish," he replies impatiently, tapping his foot. "And please tell me how the fuck you justify charging us for that?"

"Well, if I'm going to _lie_ to the entire student body, several teachers AND Stan's mom… then I'm going to require a payout for my services. Lump sum if you will. I'll take cash."

"For fuck's sake, Ken," Kyle groans, pulling his bag from his shoulder and zipping it open. "How much do you want…" he trails off, suddenly frowning. "Wait," he pauses, looking up. " _Lying_?"

"That's about the size of it."

"And why would you be lying?" Kyle asks through his teeth, searching him with an intensity that frightens Kenny a little.

Stan smacks a hand against his forehead, interrupting. "Wait, wait, wait. Kenny. _You_ don't think that me and Kyle are boning too, do you?"

Kenny lets out a twisted laugh, and then observes his two friends coolly. "Boning? No, I don't think you're boning. I think you're ridiculously gay for each other, but I don't think you want to fuck each other."

"W-wait, how does that even…?" Stan starts, and Kenny grins.

" _Super best friends_?" he taunts. " _Nicest hat I have ever known_?" he pauses. "C'mon, all of Stan's shit fits about you hanging out with Wendy too much?" Kenny rolls his eyes. "Pining for each other when Kyle moved to San Francisco? _So_ gay. Incredibly gay. Liberace gay. You guys are about the gayest straight guys who ever existed."

The two of them are rendered speechless. Stan steps forward, as if he's about to argue the point further, but Kyle holds him by the shoulder, stopping him.

There's a silence, as Kenny and Stan both stare inquisitively at Kyle.

He calmly bends down to pluck his wallet from his bag. He opens it up. "Enough. Kenny," he looks up, defeated. "How much exactly do you need?"

"To convince the school that you two flaming homos aren't screwing each other every which way?" Kenny chuckles, his hands coming together evilly. "An impossible task. You guys are just lucky that you're friends with a freaking miracle worker."

* * *

"Two-hundred! I can't believe you gave him two-hundred bucks," Stan shakes his head, kicking one sneakered foot through the snow as the boys walk side-to-side to their respective homes. "That's more than I would have coughed up."

"Well, hopefully it'll be worth it. He said he'd spend the rest of today convincing folks." Kyle pauses. "And by the way, you're giving me half."

"Am I _fuck_!" Stan grinds to a halt in the middle of the street.

"Goddamn, you're really going to Jew me over on this one?"

Stan blinks in surprise at the slur. "Uh, I think you've been hanging out with Cartman too much, Kyle. You really can't say stuff like that. It's actually 2020…"

"I am Jewish!" Kyle throws his hands up in the air in annoyance. " _Bozhe moi_."

"Yeah, and don't I know it…" Stan mutters, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"What does _that_ mean?" Kyle whirls round in an angry flurry.

Stan coughs. "It means that the _Jewfro_ is out in full fashion today, nerd," he teases.

Kyle pats his springy red hair self-consciously. "Oh, crap. I knew I left something in the changing rooms," he groans, self consciously wrapping his arms around his siren head.

"Relax, dude. Just take mine, I've got a hundred." Stan pulls his hat from his own heat and passes it to Kyle, who shoves it on gratefully. "And aside from that… you had two-hundred dollars in cash on hand today. Who the hell carries that much cash besides Jewish people?"

Kyle rolls his eyes, pulling Stan's hat past his ears. "Oh, shut up. It came in handy, didn't it?"

"I suppose…" Stan replies reluctantly, his head suddenly cold.

A voice catches up behind them, making them both jump in unison. "Lover's quarrel?" it asks. The voice belongs to Clyde, who taunts them with his signature nasal jeer. "Hope you guys make up soon. The whole school's talking about your little argument."

Kyle and Stan regard each other, and then turn to face Clyde in confusion. "Uh. What argument is that, now?"

Clyde looks perplexed. "The one where you guys fell out, so you went on a break and now you're paying Kenny off to tell everyone that you're not together…?" he says, as if the answer is oh-so- _obvious_.

"We… we what?" Stan asks, his face turning pale.

Kyle balls his fists together in anger. "I'm going to _murder_ Kenny."

Clyde looks on, a little nonplussed at their reaction. "Well, good luck with that. He died again today."

"How did that happen?" Kyle asks. "He just got back!"

"Well, rumor has it… he was looking for Mr. Garrison for some reason. He walked right into his office," Clyde's voice drops to a whisper and his eyes dart back and forth conspiratorially. "Rumor has it, Wendy and Cartman were in there... canoodling. He died immediately."

Kyle scratches his head a little dubiously. "Is it really medically possible to die of sheer _disgust_?" he asks rhetorically.

Clyde shrugs. "Shock, apparently, although... I wouldn't rule out suicide," he pauses, as Stan and Kyle share a look between them. "I don't blame him," he continues, screwing up his face. "I'd probably rather die than have _that_ image in my head."

"And thanks for sharing it with us," Stan says sourly. "Jesus, as if seeing them sucking face wasn't enough..."

"No worries," Clyde says with sincerity, Stan's heavy sarcasm passing him by entirely. "And when you guys do make up… well, Mr Garrison's classroom is free." Clyde breaks out in a grin. "Anyway. I've got a date. I'm meant to be meeting Bebe down by the music classrooms. I'll see _you_ guys later!" he skips off, rather merrily.

Stan and Kyle's eyes trail miserably after him for a few seconds.

Kyle muses to himself. "Once again, Clyde's after my sloppy seconds..." he mutters through his teeth. "Whatever. She'll come running back when she misses this sweet ass of mine."

Stan feels his legs turning weak, and he finds solace on the nearest park bench.

"I… I don't…" Stan's head spins and he places his head in his hands; thoughts swirling like a hurricane. "I don't understand. I don't _get_ it."

Kyle sighs, sitting next to his woeful best friend on the bench and wrapping a comforting arm around him. "Perhaps you were right," he admits, staring hard at Stan. "Perhaps it's just South Park syndrome."

"Fuck this town. Fuck it right in the ear."

"Agreed," Kyle starts, but he's not finished. "But dude. Hear me out. I'm starting to wonder if we should even be bothered by this."

"Hmph,' Stan ' _hmphs_ ' and looks up, dubious. "How can I not be bothered?"

"Well, it's 2020 after all. Nobody _really_ cares if we're gay or not. And since we can't convince them, we might as well just lean into it."

"Like, just... be gay?" Stan screws up his face. "Oh God, please don't try to kiss me again, Kyle. I can't deal with it…"

"No, no, I don't mean actually being gay. But... maybe let's just go along with it? It seems a lot easier," he pauses, biting his lip. "Besides, I'm starting to think that it might actually help in some of my college applications. Diversity is important, and a lot of places have quotas now."

Stan blinks in surprise, and then a sigh escapes him. "Yeah… I guess. My teachers _have_ been easier on me recently. It's probably because they think I'm pining for you, or some shit. Typical."

Kyle shrugs. "Right."

"So…" Stan looks up into Kyle's eyes, searches the green orbs for some nugget of truth, or wisdom. "That's it, then? We'll just go along with it?"

Kyle squeezes Stan's shoulder. "Sounds like a plan, if that's cool with you."

Stan nods firmly.

"Awesome."

The two of them sit side by side on the bench for a few more minutes, soaking up their situation. "So if we're a couple, I have to ask: am I top or bottom?" Stan asks after a while, his bum beginning to go numb underneath the snowy seat. "Because I actually have a couple thoughts on this."

"Bottom."

"No way!" Stan interjects.

"Fine, fine," Kyle rolls his eyes in a conciliatory fashion. "We can take it in turns, hypothetically. Cool? I get Monday, Wednesday, Friday. You get Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday."

"I want Friday!"

"You can't have Friday. You get Saturday, asshole."

Stan scratches his peach fuzz stubble in deep though. "Well, fine, but what about Sunday?"

Kyle rolls his eyes. "Jesus, hot rod. Would ya quit being so gay for me? Sunday is a day of rest. Such is God's will." Kyle places both his hands together in mock prayer and closes his eyes sanctimoniously.

Stan thinks about objecting to this, but ultimately decides against it. "Whatever. Cool."

They spend several minutes vaguely discussing the terms of their completely hypothetical new gay relationship, taking it in turns to titter in amusement. After a while, Stan clears his throat.

"Hey, you know what I don't get, though?" he blurts out, staring out at the afternoon mist towards Stark's Pond, a curious look in his eye as his head drops down to Kyle's shoulder, resting there comfortably.

"What?" Kyle asks, shuffling closer to Stan to share a little of his body heat. He's still wearing Stan's hat, although they both seem to have forgotten about that now.

"I don't understand why the hell anyone would think we're gay in the first place," Stan admits, shaking his head as he snuggles his head further into the crack between Kyle's shoulder and neck. "It just seems out of nowhere."

Kyle sighs, hardly noticing their legs bumping together in front of the bench. "I know. I really don't get it. What is everyone smoking? We're incredibly hetero."

They both sit there for a silent moment, pondering this apparent enigma; intertwined; sharing each other clothes and warming each other with their own body heat.

"Well, whatever, dude," Stan finishes, warming his freezing fingertips by shoving them inside Kyle's coat. He shakes his head. "It's a total mystery to me."


End file.
